


An Androgyne Fair

by Goddexx Devine (Shinarutobi)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: College AU, Destiel - Freeform, Other, Piano, pronouns are important
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:50:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5487725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinarutobi/pseuds/Goddexx%20Devine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean goes to class expecting the prof to pick on him,... again.  Little did he expect that architecture would lead him to an Angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Androgyne Fair

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my very first fanfic ever, and I hate writing. So here is to hoping...

Snow was littering his vision. It was late sure, but the parking lot light just outside of the university made it pretty easy to see all of the thick flakes. Some of the flakes were landing on his eyelashes like feathers, clotting when they melted. Dean was a night student. Being a mechanic had it’s day time perks and all, but he wanted to be an architect, make something of himself. Now that Sammy is living with Jess, Dean figured he may as well give it a try; what with Sammy having his own Law Firm and making it to the Big Leagues. Tonight his class was to meet in the university concert hall. They were going to learn about acoustics and formats to best present a room that would allow for maximum acoustic potential. Dean was pretty excited. Being the Classic Rock lover he is gets him a little piqued about music stuff; he picked up guitar for that reason alone. Never having been in the concert hall here before though, he came a little early to get a glimpse of it before the prof made him feel like an idiot... again. (It’s not his fault he had never had to be in a university classroom before, okay!) 

He walked across the parking lot, snow flakes clinging to his body. The way the flakes twisted on the subtle breeze made his insides feel like there was hope for something magical, yet tangible all at once. The music building was something. Impressive is probably the word Dean would use to describe it, but not like the, “they are so flexible, and those lips are... impressive,” way. This was the kind of impressed that you wanted to aspire to beat whoever made whatever you’re impressed by. Reaching for the door, he hesitates to open it. That feeling just isn’t going away, but he should feel different. Classes aren’t bad or anything, but they wouldn't be making him ecstatic. He moves into the building with a quick jar of the door. Looking at his wrist and taking brisk steps through the halls, he hears the faintest of tunes. His watch reads 6:30 pm, “Why is someone even here this late, shouldn’t they be drinking or whatever it is college kids do...?” His words spoken louder than he thought with how quiet everywhere else was. 

Curiosity bettering him, as it generally does, he followed the noise. He thought back to grim stories about the Pied Piper, but figured it didn’t sound like a flute, or a pipe. This sounded majestic. Perfect. Sad. Altruistic. Peaceful. Enlightening. And whatever the sound was, he wanted to see the face behind it. He’s close now, and the anticipation isn’t really killing him, but he is definitely eager, that’s to be sure. It sounds like it's coming from a couple doors on the left. He opens what he hopes is the correct door, slowly and quietly so as not to startle the player. Lo and behold, the cavity of the room is filled with tiers upon tiers of red velvet seating, and dimly lit stairs, and that sound.

He looks to his left and sitting on stage at what he can only guess to be a Grand Piano, is an average height coiffed black mass of hair. The human playing is wriggling to the tempo as their fingers run along the keys, quick and light, but demanding attention and getting just that. Dean can feel that his jaw has dropped ever so slightly in awe. “That sound” are the only words floating through his mind, repeating every so often, in appreciation. In praise. In admiration. Dean’s movement is carefully, not wanting to make a sound, as he finds a seat on one of the steps, knowing very well the seats could creak all their own no matter how carefully he opened the chair. This is probably much better than a chair anyway, because from this angle, the lights from the stage make that heavenly being of a pianist have the halo they deserve. 

His private concert clipped to an end much faster than Dean had hoped. He heard the sound of the bench being moved across the stage before it registered that the pianist had finished. And then there was a shy apology. Dean stopped zoning out in time to notice the purest blue eyes looking at him, accented by a blush he wanted to see again, and again. 

“Nah, hey I should be the one apologizing. I shouldn’t have interrupted your playing. I just… it was uhhh… that was beautiful!” Dean sputtered under the newly burning red of his own cheeks.

The other responded “Well thank you, but that’s the only song I remember and it’s not that great,” and revealed the pearliest of whites. 

Dean lost his ability to move. This person was gorgeous. They had laugh lines that met their smile with fervor, and a huge sweater, donned with snowflakes and diamond patterns. Dean cleared his throat, “The name’s Dean. Uhh… and my pronouns are he/him/his.” He made sure to do this all the time now, after his best friend Charlie came out as a lesbian woman, he confided in her that he was queer, “‘cause there are just so many beautiful people.” So they both went to one of the free programs on campus to learn a little about the community, and Dean hated the people who assumed everything about others ever since. And with this person being so beautiful, Dean wasn’t about to risk anything.

The pianist’s eyes sparkled at that. “I’m Castiel, and you can call me whatever you like! The perks of being an androgyne.” Castiel responded with a wink.

“How about angel?” Dean’s words too quick for his own good, but hey Castiel seemed flirtatious, so here’s to hoping right?

And then he saw the blush again, or was it just the heat from the stage lights. Castiel jumped off, revealing their rose accentuated smile. “How about we start with Castiel for now? Are you here for a class or something. I thought this place would be empty, but I’m glad to see I was wrong.” Widening their grin, they combed a hand through their hair.

And like the hacker from any horrible spy movie Dean had ever watched he thought ‘I’m in.’ and did a mental fist pump. “Uh, yeah, architecture course today only, so this was a rather auspicious coincidence on our part. The prof should be here soon, but now I kinda don’t wanna sit through class. Any chance you’re hungry?” Dean scratched the back of his head and hung it low, trying not to get his hopes up.  
“Dean, are you asking me to dinner? Because if so, then you may indeed call me angel.” Cas knotted their fingers together behind their back and kicked a foot forward. 

Dean couldn’t contain his smile, he was beaming brighter than Baby’s headlights, and he was okay with that. And with that Dean had skipped class for the first time. Burgers and shakes and Cas were much better than being ridiculed by the prof. Along with a phone number, Cas left a kiss on Dean’s cheek.  
Dean didn’t frown the rest of that week, and he was hoping that Cas didn’t either. His angel.


End file.
